The Unsaid Words

We’re the young girls traded on marital market

The lasses whose stories have been rewritten

For we are children and not brides to the grey

We have our own report to give to the creator

But we dare not turn deaf hears to father’s voice

For Alhaji Gambari has given pund to our feofle.


We’re the voiceless sheep in our Shepherd’s roof

For even while the shepherd subjugates our faith

We remain dumb like the sky doesn’t shed light

For who dares abuse the oil that runneth over?

We rather remain silent till the trumpet sounds

For justice ain’t knitted to our nitty naked palm.


We are the innocent guilty ladies on the street

For when two, four & six men piece our robes

We become the shameless ladies of the night

As the world throws series of stones at our face

No one to cast blames on the humanity abusers

For our voice is as dead as the water in a basket.


We are the ink dancing on the pages of letters

As we hide under the umbrella of fragile muse

So we voice out the truth in unread scriptures

For we know how the past gods have been jailed

So we see difficulty in hitting the nail on the head

And our tropes are host of Messiahs to our craft.

We’re the words hidden beneath the rainy tongues

We’re the thoughts that fade at the feet of anxiety

We’re the tiny voices in the ears of the buffaloes

We’re the butcher’s wards feeding on stones & bones

We wish to echo words like a voice in an empty hall

But the boulevards turn them to a drop in the market.


       BIO: A ‘vocal-ink’ poet, Playwright and Prolific writer.

4 thoughts on “The Unsaid Words

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